floral, pt. 3

by gay angel

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the third of these bouquets of flowers, part of the 100-track album called "floral".

thanks for your time, i'm sure you could be doing other things.

the entire album is being posted track-by-track (with photographs and descriptions) at deaddrunkwithlove.com


released May 14, 2015

all tracks written, recorded, and produced by jake bellissimo, except for tracks 1 and 16, which were recorded by richard wattie and recorded/written/performed by bill vuono (respectively)

gay angel is jake bellissimo (guitar, celeste, piano, vocals, percussion)

as always, i'm very thankful for the people who helped out with this volume (other instrumentalists/arrangers)

garret wellenstein: conductor (track 1)
eastman school symphony orchestra: uhhhhhhhhhh (track 1)
sean lowery: percussion (tracks 2/4/7/8), backing vocals (track 7)
cassandra sellers: viola (tracks 2/6/8)
mary fortino: clarinet (tracks 2/4/6)
rennie cotner: french horn (tracks 2/6/8), backing vocals (track 15), ukulele (track 15)
brandon choi: trumpet (track 2)
andrew links: synth (tracks 2/4/6/8)
arjun baxter: electric bass (tracks 2/4/8)
tara fayazi: tuba (tracks 2/6/8)
keenan montieth: vocals (tracks 2/17)
katelyn croft: harp (track 3)
ben escobar: piano (track 4), pans (track 10)
chris xu: electric guitar (track 4)
caroline baker: french horn (tracks 4/6/8)
chaithu natarajan: alto saxophone (tracks 5/12)
alisa kolot: clarinet (tracks 5/12)
samantha turley: harp (track 6)
julia egan: guitar (track 7), backing vocals (track 7)
max kanowitz: bongos (track 2), backing vocals (track 7)
sam grosby: pans (track 10), vocals (track 10)
sean mulligan: viola (track 11), guitar (track 11)
aaron bigeleisen: vocals (track 15)

track 13 was constructed from recordings made of jon lin chua's "white moon" and zoe yucong wang's "loveless"

the text for track 19 was written by addie rose brown




all rights reserved


gay angel Rochester, New York

sometimes i stay up at night hoping that my life is just a musical and i write it down just in case it really is

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Track Name: love
i look at two photographs of memories i feel like i've seen before. like i've made some sort of deal with some kind of higher power above the things i've seen...so, why is my breath short, and what does it all mean? to see these two photographs and feel like i'm there, though they're not of me or anyone who cares.

i wanna age thirty years older, disappear into this photograph. ask you to take a chance--so, dear, shall we dance?

you can take my head, but please give me some sort of theme to put on my stone when i am dead...or so it really seems that idealized versions of the future that don't involve the middle part of life i'm only living when i'd prefer to learn at least a little about the poor conversation i so blatantly confuse with secure indiscretion i don't know how to use.

you can take my head and roll it down the stream. i'll stop dreaming when i'm dead or so it really seems.
Track Name: the library
i went to the library today and i found out that i would have to pay for the amount of times i didn't return this one book.

the manager gave me a distant look and told me i should not do that again.

i said "i'm sorry" and proceeded to grab my things. i forget what he said next, but it kinda stung. he said "you should have gotten help instead of walking away". i agree, he's right, but it's much easier said than done.

because i went to the library today and i realized i couldn't run away from the things i thought i didn't have to see. if i close my eyes, the world is easier to deal with.
Track Name: SPECIAL
beautiful brown eyes. you don't even try. early morning sky. you make me feel high.

you make me feel high. this must be what heaven feels like. or purgatory too, 'cos i will never talk to you.

and you will never talk to me. i'll never be yours to please.

it's not childish, but true, i think i love loving you.
i don't care if it's true, i think i love loving you.

i don't care if it's really true, i think i love loving you.
Track Name: summer voicemails
april 30th.

aaron said he wants to think a lot, i told him i think i'd rather not.

may 3rd.

i felt tense and empty all afternoon. i guess i should try to stop smoking soon.

august 2nd.

watching the stars while laying on a field of grass, worried you would never touch my ass.

none of these memories are from the same time. they don't make much sense but they kinda rhyme. it's easier to pinpoint random memories and think i did something that day. it's much easier that way, to talk about the things i did on a day instead of the things i missed...and, in a way, i think that's okay. that's okay. i think that's okay.

present day.

when the sky clears and the stars align, i want you to know i really like the color of that red "exit" sign.
Track Name: listen
mother, why did you lie and never tell me that some things don't get better with time or substance displacement through melancholic places?

i trip and i fall on the cool pavement, but it's nothing that's new to me--i'm as happy as i can be.

listen, i know i forgot you long ago but i'm remembering so i can ask you how hollow hearts can still beat without a pulsation and how the stars now seem closer than the pavement (a lonely but insecure sensation).

i scream and i make my skin tear, but i don't think i really care.
Track Name: jerry
jerry, it rhymes with terry and he is scary in the library. jerry, he's a cutie and he works in the library.

jerry, do you know all my secrets? do they show on my sleeve or in my book? tell me the call number of your heart.

tell me the call number of your heart and maybe i'll know on which floor to start.

jerry, you're such a cutie, but you'll never touch me.

jerry in the library, he's such a cutie, but he doesn't know it. i wanna tell him.
Track Name: happy birthday
i'm sitting here and i am signing a lease, but there are details, like when the main frame of the house breaks down. and i can't complain when the roof falls off or the floor caves in. no, i won't have a chance to start again. it'll be in a constant state of renovation. but that's not an unknown factor to me...no, i know.

the landlord tells me that "i know it is pretty shoddy, but it's your birthday and it's kind of your body. i know the place is pretty shoddy, but it's really cheap and it's kind of your body."

i'm sitting here and i am signing a lease for the next year 'cos it's my birthday and the time is here. i'll walk on home with my contract but i have to be careful because if i break anything, i won't be a good tenant.
Track Name: bed
nights like these i only look at the ceiling, but that can't my stop my head from reeling.

please don't feast your eyes, i feel like an antichrist.

beautiful body, yours makes me angry, but i can't tell if my arm is asleep. where i should have a soul, it feels like there is a hole.

know when i wake up i'll feel slightly different. my feelings they change from minute-to-minute.

i wanna feel like i'm in vermont, but i know i should probably not.

nights like these i only look at the ceiling, but that can't stop my head from reeling.

please don't feast your eyes, i feel like an antichrist.
Track Name: valentine's day
valentine's day, valentine's cards get delivered every year by the bard. i pay for them every february.

but after she left it soon became clear that i'd order valentine's every day of the year. i see the bard every day. he says a poem that wards off dismay then goes off on his merry way.

valentine's day, valentine's cards keep me company when it is too late to figure out my life and procreate.
Track Name: blue, blue sky
blue, blue sky,
and golden tree;
gentle breeze,
leaves swirling free.

bright, bright sun
and birdlings' cries;
glory-red patterns
dance on my closèd eyes.
Track Name: looking in the mirror
who's that man walking down the stairs and what did i do?
and how is it my lovers are old enough to be my fathers? am i just desperate too?

i know i wasn't drinking, it is my songs that are drunk, can't you see that my actions speak louder than my words because my words speak uncontrollably?

i know the trees are blushing and it won't be so strange when the performers go home and change into something clearly appropriate.

i hope people will stop laughing at my music and titles when i get old and grow gray hair. i think that anything can sound like a joke when i'm young and you're standing all the way over there.

the homeless woman passes by every morning and says that i'm a disgrace to the name of art music, trying to put out my cigarette, but i tell her "no." and i tell her to please leave me alone.

i say "i know what i'm doing". and no matter what i say she just yells and takes off. and, as i take a deep sigh, i don't know who is right or wrong or if i'll ever be sure.

who's that man looking in the mirror and who did he just kiss? is the decades of age difference plentiful, or should he be worried just yet?
Track Name: four male orgasms: IV. can't remember exactly where
now that you're tied, let me do my job.
Track Name: joy!
hey, have you seen joy? i once saw it in my boy, but now he lives two blocks away.

that's all i really have to say. there's not a point left to be made.

i doubt he would have ever composed, but now i'm fully composed.

i'm still having trouble finding joy. it once was in the eyes of my boy, and i can't seem to find anyone else who knows it too.

it's the trade-off between being blue and being you. although, i feel like the ultimate disposition is letting your emotions combat tradition.

hey, have you seen joy? i thought it once was a ploy, and it turns out that i was right.

the imminent ecstasy sent shivers like a symphony. and feelings are good, but not when i'm not feeling good.

but my bed is still my bed even though you're not in it, and my head is still my head even though you're seeing other people instead.